


Bad News Brooklyn Boy

by MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Rating is for sex not violence, serial killer bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/MarvelousMenagerie
Summary: Brooklyn has nothing that Tony Stark wants, except for some chicken wings. He can't even find a decent cup of coffee. Then Tony is pinned in place by an icy blue stare that promises nothing good, and Tony realizes that Brooklyn has Bucky Barnes.Tony always did have a weird response to danger.





	1. Chapter 1

“Why do we bother coming to Brooklyn?” Tony asks. The limo is an oven against his back as he leans on it. He finishes scrolling through all the notifications of his next meeting in ten minutes - if Pepper really wanted him there she would send them personally rather than through her secretary - to find nothing else in his inbox that sparks his interest, so he slips his phone in his pocket and moves away from the vehicle.

“Because you wanted those spicy wings from Bonnie’s,” Happy reminds Tony for at least the third time given the heaved sigh that accompanies the statement.

“Well clearly that was a terrible idea and you should’ve stopped me,” Tony replies as he strides over to take another look at the front tires.

Both remain flat, the result of parting gifts from previous revelries left broken and scattered in the street. Having car problems rankles Tony a bit, but without having the spare tires he doesn’t feel motivated to solve the problem  himself - yet. He can certainly reinvent the wheel but today's temperatures and current lack of chicken wings doesn’t make him feel particularly ambitious at the moment.

That, and there's the potential to miss even more meetings.

“I’m going for coffee,” Tony decides. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring something back for you,” he says over his shoulder as he heads down the sidewalk.

Happy calls out something about cream and sugar, but Tony is more focused on scanning the streets for any hint of coffee. Aren't there Starbucks on every street corner like in Manhattan?

Tony doesn’t blend into the crowd with his designer suit, but he doesn’t attract any second glances which lets him dodge more quickly through the clumps of people clustering on the sidewalk. A few more blocks has Tony fantasizing more about iced coffee than those spicy chicken wings, until his gaze catches on someone squeezed in between two parked cars on the side of the road. A tall, blonde someone in a stretched white T-shirt that is doing nothing to prevent Tony from counting the number of abs the guy has. Feeling a zing similar to a caffeine hit, Tony modifies his direction.

“Beautiful,” Tony comments as he strolls up, hands sliding casually into his pockets.

The man looks at Tony, does a quick glance to make sure there isn’t anyone behind him that Tony could be talking about, before his face settles into something like amusement.

“Pardon?” the man asks.

“Beautiful,” Tony repeats. He slides his sunglasses up to the top of his head. “I mean the bike, of course,” Tony explains as he gestures to the motorcycle wedged into the small space with the man.

“Of course,” the man repeats with humor, but then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Tony is momentarily distracted by the man’s biceps. “If only she felt like running."

“Ah, what’s her problem?” Tony asks, his interest piqued. He walks closer, and while the view definitely gets better, the bike is beautiful enough to garner more of his attention than her owner. A Harley Davidson Street 750 in a sleek black - Tony approves.

“You a mechanic?” the man asks. He looks at Tony in his business suit, and Tony holds in a sigh of disappointment. The look had no intent, no heat - nothing but skepticism. After car trouble and lack of caffeine, this might be a full strikeout for Brooklyn.  Well, she is still a beautiful machine that deserves his attention, even if she’s the only one getting between this man’s thighs in the near future.

“Of a sort,” Tony replies with a smirk. He slides his jacket off and tosses it over the seat, followed quickly by his tie. And nope, Tony’s stripping garners zero interest, at least from this man, and Tony can barely recover from the tragedy of the missed opportunities.

“Uh huh,” the man agrees, one his hands tightening on the handlebar. His gaze follows Tony intently, though Tony knows enough to tell a lustful gaze from a suspicious one. This man’s look is all of the latter.

Tony can appreciate someone possessive of their machines, though, so he doesn’t hold the man’s lack of recognition or appreciation (so far, anyway) against him.

“Come on, lovely. Talk to Tony,” he coos softly as he crouches down, needing to contort his body around the bumper from the car behind. His hands stroke down her sides, getting a feel for the connections and the lines. An older model, but well taken care of. Tony flicks a glance up at this gorgeous stranger, still watching every movement, and lets out a small sigh. Such a waste. For this man, Tony would reinvent the wheel.

But today, at least, that doesn’t seem to be necessary.

“Well, your fuel lines are fine and so are your wires. I would bet it’s the spark plugs needing a replacement, but can’t be certain without disassembling some of your bike. Which I doubt you’d like, especially as I don’t have the tools or parts needed anyway,” Tony summarizes as he get to his feet. “If you’ve got a competent mechanic, should just be a quick in and out.”

The man blinks. “Huh. Well, I can see about doing that, thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Tony tosses out as he wipes his hands on his slacks. He slides his sunglasses back onto his face and grabs his jacket and tie.

The man offers his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

Tony shakes his hand. “Tony.”

“Good to meet you, Tony,” Steve says. He pats the engine. “Thanks for taking a look at her. I appreciate it.”

“Always willing to help out a damsel in distress,” Tony replies with a grin. He takes one last long look at this stunning, tragically uninterested man in front of his beautiful machine before he steps away.

And bumps right into someone else.

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims, stepping around his bike toward Tony and this new man. “Sorry, I know I’m late. I ran into some bike issues and Tony was helping me try to fix it.”

Bucky nods, but otherwise has no expression as he looks at Tony with ice-cold blue eyes. And Tony had assumed that Steve is simply tragically straight, but maybe this is a jealous boyfriend?

“I’m a mechanic. Kind of,” Tony offers with a wide grin. He’s glad he’s put his sunglasses back on, because the icy stare he’s still getting from Bucky is enough to put him on edge. Words freeze on Tony’s tongue as he feels pinned in place by this gaze. This is more than a simple jealous boyfriend, Tony’s mind races, because this look is capable of outright murder. Tony feels his fingers twitch and the beginnings of a flush begin to take over his face.

Steve steps in between them, breaking their stare.

Tony takes a quick gulp of air, but refuses to stumble back a step that his body would like. Instead, he remains stuck to the cement and trying to absorb a shockwave of heat coursing throughout his body.

He always did have a weird as fuck response to danger.

There’s a furious whispered conversation - or really, a one-sided flow from Steve to Bucky - and then Steve has one arm on Bucky’s shoulder and they’ve backed away from Tony.

“Thanks for your help, Tony. I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Steve says, and Tony can hear his dismissal.

Tony licks his lips, meets Bucky’s gaze that has not lessened a fraction in intensity. “I always do,” Tony quips, and he takes in Steve’s white knuckles gripping Bucky’s shoulder. Tony walks away without looking back at the pair, but he can feel Bucky’s stare on his back. That feeling follows him for several blocks until he manages to find his way back to the car.

“No coffee?” Happy asks with disappointment as he takes a break from telling the mechanic how to properly replace the front right tire.

“Huh?” Tony asks, still thinking about chilling blue eyes. “Oh...no.”

“You okay, Boss?”

“Of course! Just redesigning the future in my head over here, no big deal or anything,” Tony says as he waves Happy off.

That night, it takes one quick session to get Steve and his motorcycle out of his system. But for several days after, Tony is haunted by intense - cold, dangerous, he reminds himself - blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony finds himself in Brooklyn again for the second time in two weeks. He could hit himself. There is no need for anyone to be in Brooklyn twice in two weeks, especially if they live in Manhattan. Even wings at Bonnie’s is only a craving a few times a year. But Tony can’t deny that he’s driving down Union Street, and he hasn’t been thinking about wings.

He turns onto Fifth Avenue anyway and squeezes into the first open parking spot he sees. He eyes everyone on the street for a moment before finally getting out. While JARVIS makes a stellar anti-theft system, he’d rather not end up chasing down any hoodlums who thought it’d be fun to key his Audi. He heads toward the restaurant, the bright blue paint making it easy to spot on the corner.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Fix-It,” a voice calls from behind him.

Tony turns, hands in his pockets to feel his wallet and keys, to find a man looking at him with a grin. “I’m not good with faces,” Tony replies, pasting an apologetic grin on his own face.

The man gives a small wince and ducks his head. “Oh, of course. I’m sure you meet... anyway, I’m Bucky. You were helping out my buddy Steve with his bike the other week.”

“Bucky?” Tony asks slowly, hardly able to believe it. The rest of the man, what little Tony can remember anyway, does match up with who he met before. The shoulder length brown hair, the wide shoulders, and yes, his eyes are the same shade of blue. But this time they aren’t ice cold and the man’s expression isn’t completely blank. Instead, Tony, in awe, identifies chagrin.

“Yeah. Nickname, of course. I’m actually James Barnes.”

“How do you get ‘Bucky’ from that?” slips from Tony.

James Barnes chuckles and offers Tony a half-smile. Those blue eyes almost seem to sparkle now, and Tony feels like he’s losing his footing.

“Tell you over a coffee? There’s a cafe just down the block,” Bucky offers with a shrug of his shoulders, and Tony can only blink. “My treat. Steve feels terrible that he didn’t properly thank you before, so if I can do so by proxy it’ll make him feel better.”

Tony takes another moment to absorb those blue eyes and the changes in them. Equally beautiful, Tony decides, with a regretful sigh. Tony wishes he had the ice cold blue back, though, if only because then it would mean Bucky didn’t realize that Tony the Mechanic is Tony Stark.

Pasting a grin on his face, Tony replies, “He should feel terrible, judging my mechanical skills. Unfortunately I’m in a bit of a rush, and I need to get back.”

“Of course. Didn’t mean to be a bother,” Bucky offers agreeably enough, but his eyes have shuttered. It’s enough of an echo of that ice stare that Tony feels the loss - of both the earlier warmth, and the lack of true coldness.

Tony walks the last few steps to the door of Bonnie’s before he turns and watches Bucky walk away. It isn’t the first time he’s gotten different reactions when he’s gone from just Tony to Tony Stark, and Tony didn’t come back to Brooklyn to look at the peeling blue paint on the front door of Bonnie’s. Maybe a few more minutes with Bucky is what it takes to get those blue eyes out of his dreams. It wouldn’t be a hardship, Tony can admit, as his eyes trail Bucky’s backside.

Then he can write Brooklyn completely off the map.

“Hey Bucky,” Tony calls out as he strides after him. Bucky turns, and those blue eyes meet his own gaze. “I need to get back,” Tony starts, remembering that he’s supposed to be too busy for coffee, “but you want a ride into Manhattan? Probably out your way, but you don’t know what you’re missing, seriously.” Though Tony thinks that maybe he should check that he still has a car before he goes offering a ride.

Bucky blinks at him. “Sure?”

“Ah - alright. Great. Let’s go then,” Tony says and heads back down the block.

“Weren’t you going to get something?” Bucky asks, pointing back at Bonnie’s restaurant.

“Nope. I’m good. You coming, or what?” Tony asks and Bucky quickly catches up to Tony with his longer stride.

Tony sighs in relief as his Audi comes back into view, still as pristine as he left it.

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers.

“Still present and accounted for,” Tony notes. “Though I’m almost disappointed there aren’t any Brooklyn-esque decorations. Where are those miscreants when you need them?” he comments as he slides in the driver’s seat.

“Some of us have respect for sexy engineering,” Bucky replies as he reverently opens the door and slips into the passenger’s seat. He closes the door with care and stretches out in the leather seat before letting loose a groan.

Tony smirks, and watches Bucky’s eyes flit over every surface of the interior, watches Bucky’s fingers twitch with the well-known desire to touch.

That’s when Tony realizes that the fingertips that poke out of Bucky’s left sleeve are a shiny metallic. A spike of curiosity shoots through him, but he swallows the burning followup question from that observation for a very different one. “Sexy engineering, huh? What about the sexy engineers?”

That earns Tony a quirked smile and a bit of a flush from Bucky. “Always been more into mechanics, myself,” Bucky replies with attempted nonchalance.

Tony grins and offers no apologies for when he whips a U-turn on the street and speeds back to Manhattan. As they’re racing back across the Brooklyn Bridge, Bucky rolls down the window to lean out and let loose several whoops of excitement. Tony laughs as Bucky flips off any of the cars that honk at them as Tony zips around them.

“That was fucking fantastic,” Bucky says with a laugh when he slips fully back into the car when Tony has to pull to a stop at a traffic light. “Man, just how fast can this thing go?”

“That is classified information,” Tony replies with a smirk.

“Aw, come on,” Bucky tries to persuade.

The rest of the way to Stark Tower, Bucky fires questions at Tony about any of his cars. Tony then finds out that Bucky is a co-owner of that beautiful motorcycle and thinking of Bucky riding that machine rather than Steve is a pretty picture. Maybe it won’t be so easy to get Bucky out of his head.

“No, but really - top speed?” Bucky continues.

“Oh come on, you don’t want me to ruin the mystery do you?” Tony asks as he pulls into Stark Tower. He outright laughs as Bucky gasps as the floor rotates and lowers, taking them down into the underground garage where some of the rest of Tony’s cars are lined up in a row.

“Hot damn,” Bucky whispers, and Tony smiles.

They come to a stop, but Tony doesn’t move for his door just yet. Instead he leans back, and stretches his arm across to Bucky’s headrest.

“Have fun?” Tony asks, smirking.

Bucky looks at him, his eyes again that bright blue, with a huge grin on his face. “Only a little,” he drawls, running a hand through his still windblown hair.

“Can’t have you ruining my reputation,” Tony says, and leans a few inches towards Bucky. He can pretend he’s giving Bucky the full Tony Stark Experience, but those blue eyes are drawing Tony in all over again even without that pinning glacier stare.

He’s confident he hasn’t mistaken the quick glances that Bucky has sent his way on the drive over, the flirting undertone to their banter. And as Bucky looks at him, the intensity in those blue eyes so, so similar to before but now with a very different intention, Tony can barely wait the moments it takes Bucky to lean forward and meet Tony halfway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: explicit sex which edges into dub-con territory. While both Bucky & Tony are willing participants, consent isn't clearly established. 
> 
> This is the chapter that earns this fic it's explicit rating! If you would like to skip, start 10 paragraphs down and then stop after Tony & Bucky get back to Brooklyn. Please feel free to comment or stop by my [tumblr](http://hddnone.tumblr.com/) if you'd like a non-explicit summary of the chapter.

Tony waits. For months and months, he waits.

In general, he doesn't have sex in his cars - not since he turned twenty-seven, anyway - but for Bucky he makes an exception. After that first time, where Bucky held him on edge for what felt like hours until Tony finally divulged the top speed of his Audi R8-

"185," Tony gasps, hips arching up into Bucky's hand.

Bucky grins, sharp and dirty. He shifts his grip back to the base of Tony's cock, too tight, and then strokes, too slow. Tony feels no shame in the whine that escapes his throat.

"You think," Bucky begins, his voice low and rumbling, "that I'd believe that a guy like you wouldn't make some improvements? Sup it up, just a tiny bit?" He tilts his head down and nips kisses up along Tony's jaw as he strokes Tony again, too much and too tight, still not enough.

Tony gasps for air, and then Bucky reaches his ear and starts nibbling and Tony can't repress his shiver. He imagines doing this again, imagines Bucky stroking him with that metal prosthetic rather than the current flesh hand, imagines Bucky teasing him for hours and then Tony returning the favor. If only he hadn't just finished blowing Bucky, still had that to barter with...

"Tell me, Tony. Please?"

Tony grits his teeth, but then "250, 250 miles per hour," slips out of his lips with a moan.

Bucky rewards him with a kiss, deep and filthy, as his fingers finally let Tony come.

\- it had been good sex, hot and fun, but Tony waits (because he is weak and those blue eyes don’t leave him alone. One time wasn’t enough to get them, Bucky, out of his system and now he’s lost count and he’s still here). Now he waits. Waits for when Bucky starts asking for names of projects, names of people, for ideas or products or test models or... something. Waits for Bucky to make a move for Tony's money, or Tony's company, or Tony's employees.

There is a moment where Tony brings Bucky to a car show and almost loses him to one of the designers of the 2017 Tesla Model X. Tony doesn't hesitate to lay a possessive hand on Bucky's hip until he can make Bucky forget everyone and everything else except Tony at the end of the night.

Tony tells himself he's keeping his (potential) enemies close.

But Bucky doesn't ask about Stark Industries, about product lines, about contacts. He doesn’t even ask Tony to upgrade his prosthetic - which may be outside of Tony’s expertise, but he’s great at tech of all kinds so it would still be a reason. But Bucky only ever kind of asks about business when he asks Tony how his day is. And sometimes Tony whines more than needed, if only because Bucky can be very, very attentive when Tony claims to have a bad day.

Two months, three months, four months pass without anything more than an occasional call and meet up. Theoretically they could both be seeing other people, Tony knows. He may be handing too much of his heart over to James Barnes. Rhodey has taken to reminding him that he isn’t anything more than a booty call and if Tony wants more than he should _do_ something about it. JARVIS keeps a running list of Tony’s excuses of his inaction (and rebuttals for each one, but Tony ignores that list). Whenever Bucky doesn't answer his phone, Tony's heart beats faster as he wonders if this is finally the end.

Then one night Bucky treats Tony to late night coffee, in Brooklyn of course because Bucky is naive about convincing Tony to love (or pity) it, and they end up back at Bucky's place. Steve is out, Bucky's roommate as well as best friend, who Tony hasn't seen since that one day with a broken down motorcycle.

For the same reasons Bucky hasn't met Pepper or Rhodey, Tony imagines.

The tiny apartment with small, mismatched decorations reminds Tony of rooming with Rhodey back in college. Nostalgia makes him quirky, and he and Bucky poorly attempt a couple crazy sex positions before collapsing with laughter. They finally get each other off, breathless and sore but still laughing. Even the thin, lumpy mattress - something he definitely hadn’t missed from dorm room days - doesn't lessen the smile on Tony’s face as he falls asleep wedged on the bed with Bucky.

Tony wakes up alone, a truck rumbling down the road rousing him from sleep. He rolls out of bed, a small smile still on his face, and puts on his boxers before he stumbles out of the room.

"There'd better be coffee or I might commit a felony," he calls out in warning.

He stops, feet glued to the floor, as he finds Bucky sitting on the couch in the living room. Six guns - four rifles and two handguns - are lined up on the coffee table in front of him. A seventh, Stark Industries issue,  is in Bucky's hands, currently getting stripped.

Tony watches as Bucky's fingers flit over each piece, disassembling it as he goes. Each part is then meticulously cleaned before being re-assembled. The gun is placed back down in the empty space between two others, and then Bucky picks up the next. An M110 from Knight's Armament Company, Tony notes. Current United States army standard.

Stripped, cleaned, assembled. Stripped, cleaned, assembled. Stripped, cleaned, assembled.

Tony waits, unable to move. When Bucky finally reaches the last, the classic Russian sniper rifle Dragunov, he shifts down to the other end of the couch and begins again with the first.

That prompts Tony into action, and he finally steps farther into the room. He shuffles his feet against the carpet so as to be heard, but Bucky doesn't acknowledge his presence. Not until Tony comes to stand directly next to the couch does Bucky look at him.

Then Tony is pierced with those ice cold blue eyes, and he can't breathe. Those eyes have continued to haunt him, though he's never mentioned that to Bucky. But now they've returned, and Tony pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming. His heart beats loudly in his ears, and his body tenses in preparation to run or fight. Or, the third option, he moves toward Bucky and slowly straddles his lap. He never looks away from Bucky's glacier stare, and Tony's body thrums, every nerve wired.  The touch of Bucky between this thighs is electric.

With one hand, Bucky sets the gun back down on the coffee table. The other, the metal prosthetic, Bucky wraps around Tony’s throat.

Tony stills, his arms at his side. Bucky’s stare pierces into him, and Tony feels stripped bare like the Dragunov. Not judged, as he so often is by every passerby who feels like they know him, just... seen. Evaluated. And then, maybe, reassembled. So Tony relaxes into the grip, lets his head fall forward so that only a sliver of air can get through to his lungs.

Bucky squeezes - a testing pulse - before he guides Tony to the side. With firm hands, Bucky arranges Tony face down, head pressed against the couch cushions, with his knees splayed and ass in the air.

Bucky tugs Tony’s boxers down, and Tony squirms. His cock aches, filling rapidly, as Tony imagines that icy stare taking in Tony’s exposed hole.

Then Bucky walks away.

A sick, sinking feeling fills Tony. He doesn't move, can't. But his mind plots the quickest route to the bare minimum of clothes that he needs to grab before he can walk out of the apartment. He doesn't know this Bucky, and for all Tony knows this Bucky is going to grab a camera, someone else, anything and Tony can't handle that he can't -

Bucky returns, and Tony remains rigid on the couch. "What -" Tony croaks.

Bucky slips two fingers into him, already slick. Lube, Tony's mind fills in. Bucky left to get lube. Tony is a little loose from last night, but the slickness is definitely required as Bucky sinks two fingers into him and stretches Tony out all over again.

Tony can only hear his own gasps for air, his own whines as Bucky spreads him with one hand and methodically stretches him with the other. Two fingers, then three, then four. Throughout, Bucky says nothing and Tony can't make himself form words out of the sounds slipping from his mouth. Just when Tony starts mentally preparing for the possibility that Bucky is going to try fisting, the fingers slip out and Tony feels like he's gaping.

The crinkle of the condom. The squelch of the lube. His own harsh breaths. Tony grips the couch cushions tightly, his fingers aching with the strain as he grounds himself. Then Bucky's cock pushes at his entrance, pushes in, and in and in and in until Tony can't breathe. He should relax but he can't, he's clenched around Bucky and unable to breathe until Bucky starts to pull back out.

In, out, in, out. Tony's world narrows to the sensation of Bucky's cock thrusting into him and where his fingers grip the couch cushions. He is only distantly aware of his own hard and leaking cock bouncing against his stomach. He breathes, he moans. In, out, in, out, with smooth, relentless strokes.

Bucky's breath hitches; Tony clenches down. In, out, in out. Tony can feel his orgasm rising, a hot wave churning in his gut, but he doesn't dare reach for his own cock. In, out, in, out, until finally: a stutter. Bucky's metal prosthetic digs into Tony's hair and holds him still, pushes his face down into the cushions. Tony gasps for air as Bucky's hips slam into him, again and again as the rhythm is lost. His lungs and ass burn as that heat builds and builds and builds.

Tony skates right along that edge, and then Bucky comes. His cock grinds in, and Tony is so full, but he still doesn't come, can't, because the edge is disappearing out of his reach. Just like Bucky now slowly sliding back and out, leaving Tony to muffle his cry against the couch cushion.

He's trembling, he realizes, and he tries not to think too much of his cock throbbing while his fingers refuse to let go of the rough couch fabric. _Please please please_ his mind chants or maybe he says it out loud, he doesn't know, but all he tastes is musty fabric as he bites at the cushion under his face.

Hands pull him back, make Tony release his grip and manhandle him until he's splayed over Bucky. "Please," Tony realizes that he's repeating as Bucky's hands, both of them, roam his body. Tony's muscles relax and tense in their wake, his hips thrusting up in short bursts as Tony chases and chases but can't quite reach.

Bucky remains silent as he finally takes Tony's cock in hand. Tony's cry is loud enough for the both of them as heat courses through his system once again. He writhes on top of Bucky, in his lap, as Bucky slowly jerks him with one hand and then stuffs three fingers back in Tony's ass with the other.

Tony loses control, doesn't know what he's saying or if he's even speaking. There's nothing but Bucky's breath in his ear, Bucky's slow pull on his cock, Bucky's fingers stuffed in his ass. Tony rides, he pleads, he thrusts - but Bucky keeps him just on the edge of coming, slowing down or tightening just enough to stop Tony's orgasm each time. Soon breathing is the only thing Tony can manage, only keeping oxygen flowing into his system so he can survive this new torture. His brain melts, his muscles scream, his heart pounds. He looks over, dazed, into those beautiful glacier blue eyes. Finally Bucky hums, a pleased sound, and gives a vicious pull on Tony's cock while his fingers curl into Tony's prostate.

Tony comes screaming.

He drifts, his mind a peaceful blankness. Warm hands skate over his skin, and he welcomes the touch. He breathes in. He breathes out. Moistened lips interrupt this process, but instead of fighting for air Tony dredges up enough coordination to lazily kiss back.

Bucky's metal hand comes up and circles his throat again. Squeezes.

Tony relaxes back into Bucky and drifts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor OC death that happens off-screen.

“Alright, Rogers. Give it to me,” Tony says, three months later. He hops up onto the only clear place on the kitchen counter. Dirty dishes, pans, and empty bottles fill up the rest of the surface.

“No way, you already had three slices,” Steve protests, as he steps back. The pie plate he had just grabbed - clearing the space for Tony - is tugged tighter into his chest as he shovels another bite in with a fork.

“So? You’re already as big as a house. I’m just looking out for my boyfriend by keeping you from breaking the doorway with your lumbering shoulders,” Tony retorts, but he glances back out the kitchen to the living room instead of staring at the pie. His fingers drum on the counter until he knocks an errant spoon to the floor. “Really, I’d be doing you a favor. And you were late, so you deserve less pie.”

“Not my fault,” Steve mumbles around another bite, but he’s looking at Tony more closely. “What’s up, Tony?” he asks, his mouth not quite empty yet.

“With that display, certainly not my dick.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Good,” he says and shoves another, larger bite into his mouth. “But stop deflecting. What’s wrong?”

Tony opens his mouth, but then a burst of laughter from the party in the living room makes him pause. He had waited for something that resembled good timing, but he’s such an idiot because clearly now isn’t it. And does he really want to ask, anyway? It’s not like he hasn’t already buried the questions for so long now...

“Is this about Natasha? Because she isn’t going to actually kill you,” Steve assures.

“I am 100% certain that isn’t true, and she would maim you for spreading such false lies. Or did she tell you to tell me that to lure me into a false sense of security?” Tony asks, seizing on the topic change.

Bucky’s friends are... eclectic. Or maybe that’s just in comparison to the usual crowd that Tony runs with, but Tony finds himself liking them anyway. Even Natasha, who likes scaring Tony with knives, but tosses out punchlines with the best deadpan expression that Tony has ever seen. They’ve all crammed into the living room of Steve and Bucky’s apartment, cleaning up crumbs from Bruce’s recent baking adventure and watching Thor lose spectacularly to Clint’s superior gaming skills. The only ones missing are Steve who snuck back into the kitchen to eat the last bite of pie and Tony who followed him.

Because Tony is a part of this group now, ever since Tony and Bucky made their relationship official three months ago. It had taken less than a week after Tony had seen those glacial blue eyes again, and Tony doesn’t doubt the significance of the timing.  

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so happy with his life. And so now that means Tony can’t hold back his questions anymore.

“Actually,” Tony says, cutting off Steve’s reply about Natasha. “I...Bucky. Just tell me straight. What do I need to know?”

Steve evaluates Tony as he scoops the last bit of pie into his mouth. Tony meets that blue gaze, so different from the one that he’s obsessed with at the moment (Pepper says this is what it’s like to genuinely like someone romantically, Rhodey straight up tells him he’s in love, JARVIS has statistics that Tony is ignoring).

“What did Bucky tell you?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. He’s asked the question, finally, but now... he looks longingly back at the living room. He wants Steve to tell him what he wants to hear and be done.

“He’s been like this since we were kids,” Steve says softly as he puts the pie plate over by the sink. “It isn’t going to go away. He is who he is.”

“Give me some credit,” Tony snipes back, rolling his eyes. Bucky had alluded to as much on the one conversation they danced around the topic, after that first time Tony found him in his living room stripping guns. Saying he doesn’t remember a time when he didn’t swing from hot to cold and back again, suddenly and uncontrollably. Sometimes he can feel it coming on, like an itch at the back of his brain - and then he wouldn’t answer Tony’s phone calls. He also said if Tony wanted to walk out the door and never look back, there would be no hard feelings.

Tony hadn’t left then, had finally graduated to official boyfriend status a few days later, and now he wants to double-down on his investment. If only Howard and Obadiah hadn’t drummed in his head to know the risks, estimate them and prepare for them and plan around them. Know the risks, Tony.

Because Tony isn’t concerned about Bucky’s mood swings. He likes Bucky both ways. But there’s been something else in Bucky’s gaze recently that comes out when he’s cold and giving Tony that beautiful icy stare. Something that spikes a mix of fear and heat in Tony when he sees it, something dark and piercing. Tony has seen it before, and he’s seen it disappear. He has no doubt that Steve knows exactly what it is and how to satiate it.

It certainly isn’t sex. Tony has thoroughly tested that angle with great enthusiasm.

“I didn’t expect you to stay once you knew...about him, how he is,” Steve admits, the words pushed from his mouth as if each one hurt. He winces as he looks at Tony, face twisted in apology.

Tony snorts. He maybe should’ve foreseen that this is how his first conversation with Steve about this aspect of Bucky would go. “I need you to tell me something I don’t already know. That’s why I asked you.” Steve isn’t subtle or shy in handing out his looks of disapproval, and Tony weathered them with smirks and sarcasm for a month before they finally could have a conversation that didn’t end in a fight.

Rhodey and Pepper asked Bucky about small details of his life they would’ve only gotten from extensive background checks, so Tony calls it even.

Steve shakes his head then sighs. “He’s different,” Steve finally says, “when he’s...cold, like he is. He has a different way of seeing things, different...needs. Either you’re all in or cut out now.”

Tony launches off the counter to get in Steve’s face. “I’m right fucking here, Rogers. So tell me what I’m missing or stop wasting my time.”

“So much drama,” Natasha cuts in as she steps into the kitchen. “It’s not your party boys, so you can’t cry even if you want to.”

“Terrible song,” Tony smoothes over as he backs away from Steve. “I haven’t cried at my own party since I was six, I think. I incorporated some mechanical surprises into the cake and broke Jarvis’ favorite knife when I tried to cut it.”

“Well, Mr. Stark,” Natasha replies as she snags a beer from the fridge. She then hooks her arm through Tony’s, and Tony is too shocked - both at her calling him Mr. Stark and that she would touch him - to move out the way. Out of everyone, she has been the hardest for Tony to read and they’re usual relationship is trading semi-friendly insults. Natasha then moves them back towards the living room, and Tony lets his feet follow the inevitable conclusion. “It sounds like you were ready for anything,” she comments.

Tony hides a frown and takes a quick glance back at Steve who doesn’t bother hiding his own frown. Natasha’s comment doesn’t quite make sense, but on its own it almost sounds like a compliment. Tony feels her squeeze his arm to her side, gently. Tony is so bewildered at what might be considered typical affection that he stumbles into Bucky when Natasha leads him right into him.

“Occupy your boyfriend,” she commands to Bucky, and then she slips away to distract Clint from winning another round of Mario Kart.

“Hey doll,” Bucky greets him with an easy smile, wrapping his arms around Tony. “Getting into trouble?”

“Fighting with Steve over pie,” Tony replies with a mock sigh. He curls into Bucky, doing his best to look up at him with wide, pitiful eyes. “The lout wouldn’t share,” he whines.

“You have my full permission to kick his ass.”

“Hey!” Steve protests as he comes into the living room.

Tony hums, pleased, and when Bucky takes a seat in the armchair he drags Tony into his lap with him. Tony stays, and takes in Clint’s catcalling and Thor’s laughter and Bruce’s smile. He notices Natasha’s smug look, sent a few times their way throughout the night, and Tony sticks his tongue back out at her each time. She finally flips him off, they share a smile that warms and relaxes him in a way that he hasn’t had since his and Rhodey’s last engineering binge months ago.

He is ready. For whatever he is missing, whatever Bucky and Steve aren’t telling him, he is prepared. And, Tony can admit, he is happy.

 

* * *

 

“How do you feel about Italy?” Tony asks as soon as Bucky picks up the phone.

“Uh...nervous? The only Italian I know are swear words.”

“Not a problem. I can teach you better ones,” Tony tells him before he turns back to Pepper. “See, it’s totally fine. He loves Italy.”

Pepper stares at him with the flat look that is even worse than when she gets that crinkle in her forehead. He pouts, but then she turns and heads back to her own office with her hands full of paperwork.

Tony sighs. He can feel the judgement even when she’s left the room. “You’re free next weekend, right?” He rushes out. “I mean, I’m normally terrible at anniversaries but ever since that one night we... anyway, Pepper brings it up whenever she wants to guilt me into things, and that was just recently, not that I was necessarily going to forget - it’s been six months or so, since we officially made things official, right? - and it came up, and so I’m thinking Italy next week.” Tony pauses. “If you’re free.”

There’s silence over the phone for one long moment, then two.

“Italy? The _country_ Italy?” Bucky asks, his voice pitched higher than usual.

“Yes? We can totally go somewhere else if you aren’t feeling it, though. It’s not like I’ve made any actual plans because I would never do that without checking with you first,” Tony replies as he has JARVIS pull up the itinerary. He really would like to go back to that osteria on the Amalfi Coast, but really Tony would be happy to go anywhere with Bucky. Though hopefully Bucky doesn’t decide Brooklyn, because _really_.

“...Right. How responsible of you,” Bucky drawls. “Um... Italy is good. Italy is - wow. Uh, spoiler alert, I got you sunglasses? Not even designer ones. They have stickers of pandas on them.”

A warm, gushy feeling bursts in Tony’s chest. “I want them. Immediately. Right now. You should come to the office so I can wear them. And then I can be wearing them and only them as I blow you as a ‘thank you.’”

Bucky groans and it sends hot sparks dancing down Tony’s spine.

“ _Stop with the nasty!_ ” Tony hears through the speaker.

“Shut up,” Bucky informs the voice, who Tony guesses is Clint. “Tony, Italy... it sounds like too much...”

“It’ll be fun,” Tony wheedles. “Say yes. For me.”

“Okay, yes. Definitely yes. And no, Clint, you are _not_ coming.”

Tony goes into the rest of his meetings with a brilliant smile, even if Bucky did say that he couldn’t have his panda sunglasses until they left for Italy. His smile serves to put everyone else on edge, which actually works out a nice bonus. The only one who isn’t freaked out is Pepper, who gives him a small but sincere smile while Dabney blabbers on about projections. Tony buys her (or lets her buy herself) a new pair of shoes as a thank you for the reminder about their anniversary.

Then it’s two days before they’re supposed to leave for Italy. Tony hums to himself as he reads over some recommendations from physicians about the types of materials that can be used in prosthetics. He jerks up as Happy bursts through the office door, panting.

“Visual confirmed,” Happy gasps into his earpiece.

Tony starts to stand, but Happy waves him down as he scans the room. “What is this? Are we starting random security sweeps now?”

“Just stay where you are while I secure the room,” Happy orders.

Tony rolls his eyes, but then JARVIS pulls up an article on his computer. Aldrich Killian has been found dead with a single shot through the head. A Stark Industries business rival, dead by a Stark Industries weapon.

Pepper strides in. “I’ve got both PR and Legal on their way in ten minutes. Get a coffee and call Barnes.” She breathes and then continues more gently, “You might have to delay your trip.”

Tony groans. “I always hated that guy. No, of course I’m not going to say that in public,” he says while waving off Pepper’s warning. “But come on, really? Now, he has to die _now_?”

Tony mutters swear words to himself as he calls Bucky. The call goes straight to voicemail.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony stands across the street from the front of Bucky’s and Steve’s apartment building. He gives himself to the count of five. A deep breath expands his lungs. One, two. He shouldn’t be here. Pepper will kill him, and then Happy will lecture him. Three, four. Another deep breath, not shaky, not rushed. Five.

Move.

Tony takes another look. He glances at the fifth floor window that leads into their living room. There’s no movement on inside, nothing to disturb the bright green curtains Bruce had re-gifted to them three weeks ago.

Move, Stark.

Tony takes in another deep breath of toxic, Brooklyn air. Then he turns and heads down the street. He doesn’t go into the apartment. He doesn’t need to to know that Steve and Bucky are long gone and police tape is across the door. He also doesn’t need to visit Natasha, Clint, Thor, or Bruce. They’re all gone.

All of them, gone in one fell swoop while Tony had been daydreaming about a trip to Italy. Or maybe they had left later, when Tony was shut up with Pepper preparing a statement. Or maybe it hadn’t been until the NYPD had stopped by to intimidate Tony into releasing sales information. Or maybe they had waited around until authorities finally picked Tony up for an official interrogation on if he’d had Killian murdered.

Or maybe they were prepared, ready, for when Bucky fired the single killing shot. Did they disappear before Killian’s body had even hit the ground?

The timing shouldn’t matter, but it does. Did they know the evidence they were leaving behind, that they would have to run? That they’d be able to disappear from Tony’s life and set up a moral and legal wall so that he can’t (shouldn’t) track them down? How soon did they make the decision to leave Tony behind?

Tony waits until he’s home and in front of a punching bag before he lets out his anger.

Did they know this is how it would end? That Tony would sit in an interrogation room and have photos of Aldrich Killian’s brain splattered on the sidewalk thrown in face? That Tony would have to weather accusations (did you plan it?) and ridicule (how did you, a genius, not know?)? That all along, they were going to leave Tony without a single goodbye?

After all, this isn’t the first time Bucky has killed someone. An agent by the name of Phil Coulson is the one who had gotten to priviledge to tell Tony. Now, finally, there’s enough evidence to connect James “Bucky” Barnes to the serial killer codenamed the Winter Soldier.

At least now he knows what satiates that dark, piercing look in Bucky’s glacier gaze. Tony had dated him, fucked him, _survived_ him. He should be glad just to be alive rather than in a gutter with a single shot through the head, or so they tell him.

Tony lets out a scream when he throws the next punch.

 

* * *

 

 “Tony...”

Tony waves Pepper off. It’s rude and he knows it - tomorrow he’ll apologize - but for today Tony needs to not deal with Pepper’s attempts at comfort. A slow news day aligning with the sixth month anniversary of the Winter Soldier’s disappearance had made for a very long day. Also a few days off from what would have been Tony and Bucky’s one year anniversary. A long day for Pepper too, Tony can admit, and his apology is on the tip of his tongue when the elevators close on him.

So instead Tony sighs and leans against the wall. JARVIS takes him to the penthouse, leaving Pepper and everyone still left in Stark Industries behind. At least he doesn’t have to wade through the swarm of reporters camped outside.

Pepper does though, he realizes, and Tony hits head against the wall as a rush of guilt wells up.

“JARVIS, email Christian and ask about designing something for Pepper,” Tony says as he rubs at his eyes. Because Christian Louboutin owed him one (or at least half), and Pepper deserved something extra special for being dragged back into this mess all over again. As if it wasn’t all too much six months ago.

“I’ve created a draft email for your approval at your earliest convenience,” JARVIS replies. “And sir, there are also two guests currently in your penthouse.”

Tony stiffens. “Who?”

“Miss Romanov and Mr. Rogers,” JARVIS answers. “I followed protocol and directed them to the living room upon noticing their entrance into the building.”

Tony wonders if he now deserves those accessory charges they had tried to stick him with back then. Or would it have been deserved when he created that protocol, months ago? At the time, he hadn’t been sure what he would’ve done if they showed up and JARVIS directed them to his penthouse. But the floors tick by (not literally, because Tony finds that sound annoying) and Tony still doesn’t alert the authorities. Tony feels like JARVIS’ silence is judgmental, but he might just be projecting.

“I can handle this, J,” Tony says anyway as the elevator doors open.

“Of course, sir,” is all JARVIS says and then Tony steps out. And now he has fully earned those accessory charges, because Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers get up from his couch where they’re watching television, a nature documentary on penguins. He can’t even look at them as he walks directly over to his bar.

Tony pours himself a generous amount of whiskey, takes a sip, then adds another pour. He sets the bottle down with a clink, and then his glass with another. Tony loosens his tie so that he can breathe, but it doesn’t settle the uneasy emotions churning in his stomach.

“There are outstanding warrants for your arrest,” Tony says softly, “in the entire Tri-State area.” He doesn’t let himself lean on the bar or collapse onto a stool, like he desperately wants. He remains standing, back rigid, as he prepares for whatever blow they’re going to deal him with next. Tony turns, glass back in hand, because he’s tired of being hit from behind. “So what are you two doing in my Tower in the middle of New York City?”

“Hello, Tony,” Natasha greets smoothly. She settles onto the arm of a chair closer to the bar than the couch, but still back far enough away to pretend she’s not a threat. “We appreciate the invitation.”

“A containment protocol is not an invitation,” Tony corrects before taking another, larger gulp of his whiskey. He isn’t fooling anyone, except maybe the police, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to admit it.

“We’re just here to talk,” Steve assures. He takes a few steps closer to Tony, which Tony neutralizes by stepping back towards the windows.

“Six months late on that, Rogers. I think I’ve managed to piece things together just fine, especially with the photographic evidence I saw during my interrogation,” Tony comments coolly.

“This isn’t about that. Or at least, only a little,” Steve admits. “Mostly this is about what you want to do going forward.”

“I gave an entire presentation about the next five years of my life at a directors meeting last week, you just missed it,” Tony snaps.

“Good,” Natasha says, and Tony watches Steve bite back whatever he had been going to say. “Then you’ll know exactly how you want us to fit into it.”

That statement gives Tony pause, enough that he pretends to cover his hesitation by taking a few extended sips of his drink.

“We don’t have to fit into your life at all,” Steve assures with a grimace on his face.

Tony accepts those words like a blow. He takes a deep breath and swirls his whiskey up against the sides of the glass. When he meets Steve’s eyes again, it’s with a sharp smile on his face. “Still behind on the times,” he mocks. “I already figured that out, the same day you all up and” _left me_ “relocated while I had an appointment at the precinct.”

“We had to move fast,” Natasha starts.

“You had a company to run. And you didn’t _know_ ,” Steve jumps in, firm and earnest. He leans forward, visibly holding himself back from reaching for Tony, and his wide eyes beg for understanding.

“You didn’t tell me!” Tony accuses, finally, feeling a vindictive pleasure as Steve flinches back. He looks to Natasha to include her as well, but she only stares calmly back. “I asked. You said nothing,” he repeats, looking again to Steve. “You all knew, and no one told me.”

“You’re a full-fledged genius,” Natasha interrupts, dragging Tony’s gaze away from Steve’s pained expression. “You could’ve figured it out...if you wanted to.”

“What, you think I just ignored the fact that I was dating a serial killer?” Tony tosses back at her. She thought he had been prepared for _that_ secret?

“Yes, I do,” she replies.

Tony forces out a painful laugh and finishes the rest of his drink. It’s everything that the public, reporters, police have been throwing at him. Tony Stark, genius, should’ve known that he was sleeping with a serial killer. He should’ve known. He hadn’t, but he should’ve. He could’ve, maybe, if he’d gotten the timing right or asked the right person or dug a little deeper. He hadn’t done it, but he could’ve, and Natasha knows. He knows it too.

“Do you actually have the moral objections Steve projects onto you, or is just your pride that’s injured?” Natasha asks. She walks towards Tony, evading Steve’s hand reaching out to stop her, and comes to a stop directly in front of him.

Tony holds his ground, unable to do anything but match her stare with anger flaring up his spine.  He smiles, a sweet sickly one that twists his lips. “Didn’t you know? Apparently I gave the Winter Soldier both the gun and proper _incentive_ to shoot Killian through the head.”

“Don’t call him that,” Steve barks.

Tony hides his surprise behind one raised eyebrow. “And here I thought I was paying my proper respects. He had quite the resume, they told me.”

“Don’t call him that,” Steve reiterates, fists clenched and barely holding himself back from storming up to Tony. “He’s Bucky.”

Natasha grabs Tony’s arm, but Tony can’t resist. “Is there a difference? By the way, just out of curiosity, exactly when did you first find out that your childhood friend shoots people for fun?”

Steve glares, his blue eyes dark and almost, almost as cold as Bucky’s. Tony feels their friendship, or whatever it had been, shatter into remnants between them. He hopes the shards cut Steve because at least at the end of the day Steve gets to go back to Bucky, and Natasha, and Clint, and Thor, and Bruce. Steve gets that, and Tony only gets this momentary satisfaction.

Steve’s eyes cut back to Natasha. “Let’s go. We’re through here.”

“Not until Tony makes his choice.”

“Didn’t you hear him?” Steve sneers. “He’s made it.”

Tony hears Natasha take a deep, slow breath. “Tony,” she says, and shakes his arm until he meets her gaze. “We miss you. Bucky misses you. Everything happened too fast for us to tell you before, but now you know. So come with us.” At Steve’s pointed cough, she continues, “Or say the word and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Natasha stares at him, as open of a plea as he’s ever seen from her, but Steve can’t deign to look at him. Tony can’t decide where to look, going back and forth between the two, as he can barely take in the words. He wants to ask JARVIS to replay them.

They miss him. Bucky misses him. They want to come (except for Steve, but he’s an asshole). Those words are everything he has wanted to hear but had not dared hope for, and yet here they fall from Natasha’s lips.

So easy. It would be so easy.

Except that Tony is petty. Pepper, in tears, had apologized to him for not finding out enough about James Barnes in his background check. Pepper, who is handling the media frenzy right now about Tony’s supposed inability to notice that he was sleeping with a serial killer. Pepper, who would rightfully kill Tony if she knew what he was doing right now.

He would love nothing more than to wipe the last six months from his memory, but they happened, and he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with the consequences. So Tony smiles, and Natasha’s face closes.

“Swing by in another six months and I’ll give you my answer. Now JARVIS, be a dear and show our guests out.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to all you readers who have stuck with this story so far! I'm so, so grateful for your kudos and comments <3 
> 
> Some WARNINGS for this chapter: there's a scene where Tony assumes sex is going to happen and, though he isn't entirely on board with it, is willing to go through with it. Nothing sexual occurs as Tony is misreading intentions (for legit reasons), but just a warning for those thoughts.  
> Also: Steve has his reasons. Please don't judge his actions (communicated through other people here) too harshly.

Tony busies himself every second over the course of the next several days, only resting when he collapses from exhaustion. He doesn’t want to think about Bucky and how he turned down the option to see him again. He doesn’t want to think about how he will never again talk to Clint, science with Bruce, laugh with Thor, argue with Steve, or banter with Natasha. He doesn’t want to think, not about that, so he keeps his mind occupied on designing and developing and working, working, working.

He doesn’t regret turning them away, not really, not when he sees Pepper standing by him day after day. Not when it’s still too easy to recall the tears on her face and the anger on Rhodey’s. They had told him that he deserves better, and whether true or not (Tony thinks not), Tony thinks that if Bucky can’t even be bothered to see him, sends Natasha and Steve instead… well, then here he’ll stay.

So Tony attends meetings and signs paperwork and approves designs. He improves, fabricates, revises. He spends hours down in his workshop and does surprise inspections of the research labs until Pepper forbids him after he gives two interns panic attacks (on separate occasions) when he had sprung up behind them and complimented them.

“Look. I’m on leave in three weeks,” Rhodey says, his voice gentle but firm. “And when I’m stateside, I’m taking you to Vegas where you’re going to get drunk and laid. Got it?”

“I look forward to it, buttercup,” Tony replies with a tired smile.

“The easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

Tony’s heart aches, but he still manages a “Hey! I’m the one who taught _you_ that.”

But that conversation  means three hours later, when he finds himself once again in God forsaken Brooklyn, he can blame Rhodey. He had been Not Thinking about Bucky, but now he can’t stop.

He’s an idiot, of course, for not realizing that Bucky was a killer - a serial killer. With the mood swings and what Tony doesn’t doubt is an urge to kill, he can’t label Bucky as simply as an assassin even in his own head. But mostly, Tony is an idiot because it has been over six months and he’s still mooning over the guy.

Because here he is, Tony Stark, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, standing across the street from his ex-boyfriend’s empty apartment like a stalker. Even worse for his reputation is that it’s late - or early, relatively - and at just past three a.m. he doesn’t have an excuse of wings or coffee as justification for being in the area.

All the anger and resentment that he’d unleashed on Natasha and Steve have faded into exhausted acceptance. He doesn’t have the energy to climb to the higher moral ground anymore. He just wants to stop aching.

Tony gives himself to the count of five before he will leave.

One.

Two.

Three - there’s a hot, sharp pressure on his wrist and his watch shatters.

Tony takes two stumbling steps back away from the street before there’s a sharp prick at his neck. His vision blurs, his steps falter. The panic button buried in his watch now destroyed, Tony fumbles for his phone with quickly numbing fingers. The phone slips from his hand before he can activate JARVIS.

“J…” Tony whispers anyway.

The edges of his vision go dark, and Tony struggles to breathe. He can’t feel his legs, tries to take a step, and then he’s falling. Something, someone, catches him, but Tony fades into blackness.

 

* * *

 

“You idiot!”

“What? What, _me_? You said you wanted him with us! That he belonged with us!”

“He does! But I told you that he has to choose this - us. Kidnapping isn’t letting him choose!”

“Barnes was doing his soldier-thing. What was I supposed to do, say no?”

“Yes! That is exactly what you should’ve said!”

“Keep it down you two or get out.”

Tony holds back a groan and forces his body to stay lax and feign sleep. His heart pounds, even though he definitely recognizes that last voice as an exhausted Bruce Banner. He doesn’t feel anything tying him down, but he can’t know if his phone has been taken without shifting, which will probably give him away. At least he still has clothes on.

“Tony? Did you want some water?” Bruce asks.

Tony keeps still, keeps his breathes even.

“He’s awake?” someone else asks, sounds like Clint.

“Yes,” is all Bruce says. “You probably woke him up, so you should leave before I feel like telling Bucky that.”

“Hey, Tash was the one yelling,” Clint defends.

“Come on,” Tony hears Natasha say with a sigh, and then there are multiple pairs of footsteps that get softer, along with the sound of a door closing.

Tony relaxes, and okay he must’ve tensed up. He opens his eyes to Bruce looking down at him with a glass of water in hand.

“You should drink this. You’re dehydrated,” Bruce says softly. He waits until Tony drags himself into a sitting position before handing over the glass.

“Getting kidnapped does that to you,” Tony bites back, but he chugs the entire glass of water down. He hands it back to Bruce, but all Bruce does is refill it from a pitcher and waves it back to Tony.

“To a degree, yes. But I think the added malnourishment and sleep deprivation was mostly you,” Bruce replies.

Tony sneers into the glass of water that he’s now sipping more slowly. “What do you care?” he asks. He should’ve asked Bruce about Bucky before (Before), is what he should’ve done, because Bruce has a hard time ignoring Tony when he’s being pushy. Bruce is best, like that (except Tony knows why he asked Steve, the one who has stayed by Bucky the longest, and it isn’t because he wanted an objective answer).

Bruce sighs, but the door slams open before he can respond. Bucky stands framed in the doorway, the black tank top showing off the metal prosthetic. He stares at Tony, his blue eyes burning cold. He takes a step inside.

“Out,” he orders.

Tony’s heart thumps as he startles, but it’s Bruce who ducks out of the room without another word. Tony sits, frozen, on the bed as Bucky strides toward him. He can’t look away from Bucky’s gaze. He’s trapped again, and relief and panic are whirling around in his chest.

“Uh, hi,” Tony finally coughs up. He sets the glass of water on the table next to the bed. The next moment, Bucky wrenches Tony’s shirt over his head.

“Hey!” Tony protests, but Bucky doesn’t respond except to toss the article of clothing to the far corner of the room. His eyes take in Tony, and then his hands follow. Firm but gentle hands skim his neck, over his shoulders, and down the lengths of his arms. Special attention is paid to his left wrist, where his watch had been removed. Tony’s heart races as Bucky’s fingers circle and sooth the bruise left behind from the bullet that broke his watch. Bucky’s bullet, most likely.

Well, he had been sad that Bucky hadn’t tried to see him, and now here he is.

Bucky’s hands then ghost over Tony’s chest, then over his ribs, but they pause in the distinct dips between the ridges.

“What?” Tony snaps at him, trying to back away. He had still eaten, of course he had, but meals had gotten deprioritized to keeping his brain busy with work, work, work. It wasn’t as bad as _malnourished_ like Bruce was saying, just a poorly conceived dieting technique.

Bucky grips Tony’s hips and yanks, and with a yelp Tony slides down the bed until he’s flat on his back again. He stares up at Bucky, heart pounding, as Bucky unbuckles and unzips Tony’s pants. His hands are still gentle, though, so maybe Tony can handle this.

“Might need some extra prep. It’s… been awhile, you know,” Tony forces himself to admit. He looks at the ceiling now rather than at Bucky, because he’s not sure if he wants to see if Bucky is pleased or pitying.

Bucky says nothing while he strips Tony out of his pants. He leaves Tony’s briefs on, though, which is confusing. His hands come back to skim over Tony’s hips and down his thighs. Bucky’s prosthetic is warm, familiar, and Tony shivers as the hand cups his calf.

Tony meets Bucky’s gaze again, still so cold. Tony’s heart, always a defective organ, melts anyway.

Bucky nudges Tony’s hip, and he turns over onto his stomach. Tony focuses on deep calming breathes as he buries his face in a pillow. He waits for the pulling at his underwear, but Bucky’s hands start again at his neck and go down his spine, brushing back over his ribs more lightly than before. Bucky’s hands do end up on Tony’s ass and squeeze, causing Tony to blow out a harsh, startled breath, but then they move down his thighs and calves and end up cradling his feet.

Tony is turned over again, heart racing but muscles relaxed.

Bucky slides on top of him, completely covering him except for where Bucky tucks his head into Tony’s neck. Slowly, hesitantly, Tony’s hands come up to settle on Bucky’s sides. He swallows down the words bubbling in his throat and so he instead says nothing. Bucky does nothing more than to relax on top of Tony, pushing him into the mattress. His breath washes hot over Tony’s neck and his fingers dig into Tony’s hip. His other hand, the metal prosthetic, curls around Tony’s head and cards through his hair.

Eventually, Tony falls asleep, feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed tucked under Bucky.

Tony wakes to movement, which turns out to be Bucky shifting off of him. Tony tries to feign sleep again, remaining lax. Bucky doesn’t go far; he slips to the side of Tony and keeps one arm curled tight around Tony’s waist. Tony can feel Bucky’s muscles stretch, and then he’s being shaken.

“Drink,” Bucky commands, his voice pitched low. “Bruce said you’d be dehydrated after the tranq.”

Tony hisses out a breath because he should be better at faking sleep. But he opens his eyes anyway and sees Bucky holding a glass of water for him. Bucky’s eyes are blue and bright, but no longer ice cold. Tony contemplates ignoring the command and the glass, but he is actually thirsty.

Once he’s drained the entire glass, Bucky sets it back on the table. Then he curls closer.

“Tony,” he breathes as he takes in Tony’s face. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Is that why you kidnapped me?” Tony asks, but he doesn’t flinch from Bucky’s hand that comes up to cup his cheek.

“Yes,” Bucky answers, and then starts laying soft, gentle kisses up Tony’s jawline.

“You broke my watch,” Tony doesn’t whine.

“I had to, or you would’ve done something stupid like call JARVIS and alert the police,” Bucky explains in between kisses. He’s now making progress down Tony’s neck and Tony is not, is _not_ getting distracted by it.

“...I never told you my watch could do that.”

“You didn’t have to. I notice things. That’s why I also left your phone behind, so J can’t track it here.”

Tony thinks he should be alarmed, but currently being impressed is winning. “Am I allowed to leave?”

Bucky’s head jerks up, and he stares at Tony with a troubled expression. “You want to leave?”

“Bucky...babe. You can’t keep me here,” Tony starts, voice soothing as he brushes hair away from Bucky’s face. Despite his gentle actions, alarm is blooming inside him.

“I had Clint watch, you know. He said you were unhappy. Bruce says you haven’t been eating or sleeping. Natasha said... she said you still wanted us, that you were just hurt. Tony,” Bucky pleads. He grips Tony tight, as if he would disappear if he didn’t told on.

Bucky had done that before, too. After they had decided that yes, okay, they were serious enough about this to call each other boyfriends, Bucky had wrapped himself around Tony when they fell asleep together. Tony had never admitted liking it, but he had. He had soaked in the casual affection of a hand around the waist when they stood together and Bucky leaning into him when they sat together on the couch, but nothing topped Bucky pulling Tony into his chest and curling around him after a spectacular orgasm.

“Tony, please don’t... please don’t leave.”

“You left.” And Tony hadn’t meant to say that, but he rolls with it. “I mean, I get it, you had to run because you kill people. But if you did all that, have Clint watch, then why not tell me something? Some sort of message? You leave me with nothing for six months and then you send Steve and Natasha to simply walk straight into my Tower?”

Bucky groans. “I’m never listening to another one of Steve’s plans ever again.” Then he kisses Tony, fierce and deep, until Tony doesn’t remember what his own mouth tastes like without Bucky’s claim. When Bucky finally pulls back, panting, he says an inch away from Tony’s lips and explains. “It was stupid, but I was... everyone stopped me from taking you with, at first. Not because they didn’t want you to come,” Bucky rushes out, not missing Tony’s flinch. “Because they said you needed a choice, but there wasn’t time to explain and... then you were being interrogated, and we didn’t want to implicate you, and then Steve said...” Bucky’s voice gets deeper, darker, and while his eyes get chilly they aren’t yet that burning cold, “he said that if you moved on, if you were okay, I had to let you go.”

Bucky kisses him again, wraps his arms around Tony and _clings_. And Tony... Tony digs his fingers into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and tugs him closer.

“I waited, I did, but we were both miserable,” Bucky breathes against his lips. “I wanted to come, but it was still too risky. I sent Natasha, but Steve tagged along to make sure you knew you had a choice.”

“I didn’t choose,” Tony reminds him. “And then you kidnapped me.”

“I hurt you, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t wait anymore, not when I knew you were still mine. Why else would you end up back in Brooklyn?”

Tony closes his eyes and feels the inevitable wash over him. He accepts it, even, because his heart is too far gone.

“You have to tell me. Tell me… about who you kill.” Tony has figured out enough about the why, pieced together from his interactions with the Bucky’s cold persona and interrogation from Phil Coulson. There’s a lot that Tony can justify to himself, he’s learned in the past six months, but he does still have a line. “Any children?”

“No,” Bucky answers after some thought. “No children. Steve would know better, he’s the one who decides.” And then Bucky explains their system, how he’s let Steve guide his urges to result in the least damage, how it all became easier after they found Natasha. Now she generates a list of names -  assassins, rapists, murderers, pedophiles, traffickers - but Steve still makes the final call. They stay away from political targets and anyone too famous, so Tony breathes a sigh of relief because that probably means he’s never met anyone who has made it onto the list for consideration. Or even made it himself.

“Do you want to pick?” Bucky asks with genuine curiosity.

Tony chokes on his next breath and coughs. He has to turn his head to avoid coughing right in Bucky’s face. “No,” he wheezes. “No, I don’t want to choose.” He knows how easy it would be for him to justify it. He already has, because he’s going to knowingly date a serial killer, but he doesn’t want to be the one deciding. Tony can leave that to Steve, because he doesn’t want to be tempted with getting rid of business rivals who happen to also be awful people. “Do you remember what Killian did to make it onto your list?”

Bucky’s face goes hard. “He wasn’t on the list,” Bucky growls. “As soon as I heard he was trying to put a hit out on you, he was dead.”

Tony blinks, not sure what to think. “...Oh.”

Bucky buries his face into Tony’s chest. “I won’t live without you, Tony.” It’s both a threat and a promise, and even if it is close to their one year anniversary it’s still intense. Tony pets the back of Bucky’s head and tries not to be flattered. A weekend trip to Italy doesn’t seem over the top to that kind of devotion.

“I have some land in upstate New York,” Tony says after a deep breath. “It’s private, with several acres on all sides, but still close enough to commute for business meetings. We could, I mean, if I moved up there...there’s plenty of space left over. It’s kind of a mansion, really. If...if you wanted to.”

“Oh Tony,” Bucky breathes, smiling up at him. His eyes are a sparkling, bright blue. “That sounds perfect.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you for reading!! 
> 
> I do have some thoughts on a one-shot from Bucky's POV that would cover his 6 month absence between chapters 4&5\. If you've enjoyed this story, than please keep an eye out for that!


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